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My eyebrows lowered immediately. “Oh God, no.” When Sheila laughed, my eyes pinched shut for a moment. “That was horribly rude, I’m so sorry. I just…” I paused, taking a deep breath and going with the naked truth. “I wouldn’t know how to make pie even if I wanted to, and I really don’t feel much connection to my past here.” I raised my chin. “I’m not sure a strawberry pie would do the trick.”
Her laughter gentled to an understanding smile. “Well, that may be, but it feels good to make something delicious for others to enjoy.” She leaned forward and patted my hand gently. “Why do you think I spend so much time in the kitchen?”
I busied myself with my tea, pulling the bag out and setting it carefully onto the saucer. It was a little weak yet, but I took a few sips while Sheila stood to adjust Tim’s oxygen cannula under his nose.
“It was fine,” he insisted.
“You need it going in your nose, not onto your cheek, you stubborn ass.” She sighed. “Good thing you listen to your nurses better than you listen to me.”
“They’re nicer than you,” he said, then winked in my direction. “You have any other family, Ivy?”
Here we go.
I straightened my shoulders. “I don’t. It’s just me and my father. My mom passed when I was young.”
His eyes, so kind and understanding, shot straight through me, and I fought the urge to fidget. “Tough to lose a parent young.”
“I don’t really remember her,” I answered. “Sometimes I think that’s easier.”
They shared a look, one of those wordless conversations that only the truly connected relationships could master.
“Your son told me he was sorry,” I added quietly. “The first time I met him. And I told him he didn’t need to be because I didn’t have many memories of her.” I kept my eyes down on the saucer holding my tea. “Then he said that he was still sorry I lost something, even if I don’t remember it.”
Sheila’s eyes were glossed over when I risked a glance up.
“Sounds like him,” Tim said.
I sucked in a deep breath as I carefully set down the tea. “Thank you for the tea,” I told Sheila. “I should go.”
Her disappointment was clear, and I did my best not to let guilt tug my ass back down onto the couch. When I stood, I noticed the end table on the other side of Tim’s chair held a chess set, the pieces clearly in the middle of a game.
“You play?” I asked him.
He nodded. “Keeps the mind sharp. I used to meet a friend of mine for a game just about every day, but I can’t get out too easily anymore.”
I thought about the man at the restaurant.
Tim arched an eyebrow. “Do you?”
I nodded. “My father taught me.”
“You’re probably ruthless,” he said.
I smiled.
Tim chuckled. “Tell you what, if you come back, I want you to show me what you’ve got. See if you can keep an old man on his toes.”
Sheila stood. “Our youngest son Parker has a game on tonight, so we plan to watch it together. We’re doing breakfast for dinner,” she said. “Bacon and eggs and?—”
“You better say cinnamon rolls,” Tim interjected.
“—and cinnamon rolls,” she finished with a grin. “I’d love to have you here for a meal, Ivy. And I promise no one will pester you with questions this time. It’s too chaotic with kids around that table, and football on in the background.”
“Those kids are in their thirties,” Tim pointed out.
Sheila waved a hand. “Still kids to me.”
My brow furrowed while I stared at them.
